It's Getting Cold: I Dreamed We Fell Apart
by otownsangel
Summary: There’s work to be done. It’s dangerous, and it’s become mechanical, but it’s there, and you’re falling into the cold, into the black that circles you... Post-3x16, Supernatural/Bones crossover. Follow-up to "All The World" and "I Daren't Speak" .


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing…

**Summary: **There's work to be done. It's dangerous, and it's become mechanical, but it's there, and you're falling into the cold, into the black that circles you... (Post-3x16, Supernatural/Bones crossover. Follow-up to "All The World Is Waiting" and "I daren't speak")

**Rating: **PG-13

**Author's Note: **Literally sat down and wrote this in one hour. Not entirely sure where it came from -- or, okay, it came from Foucault's essay, "What Is an Author?," which gave me the urge to write… Then I put on "I Dreamed We Fell Apart" by Memphis, and this is what came out of me. It started as original, and quickly became the Sam from the Bones/Supernatural universe that I've managed to create for myself…

So, yes, this is another Supernatural/Bones crossover, focused most prominently on Supernatural, and frankly, I don't think it's at all obvious that I'm talking about Brennan here, but -- well, I am. Not sure where this fits between the previous two. I feel like it's a follow up to both… So that's what I'm going to go with… We're gonna call this a follow-up to "I daren't speak of what I'm wishing uselessly."

I feel like it's pretty emotionally charged, and maybe a little bit crazy, and possibly difficult to understand because of the crazy, but this is what it wanted to be… So it is. I hope it's at least someone enjoyable… Honestly, I'm kind of drained from writing it, and I would love some feedback on it.

Lyrics are from "I Dreamed We Fell Apart" by Memphis.

* * *

**It's Getting Cold (I Dreamed We Fell Apart):**

* * *

You have to know.

Sometimes there's clarity… sometimes there's something else, but -- whatever it is, you have to know.

You're cold, and there's darkness. Sometimes a light whispers in the dark recess that has become your mind, and sometimes he's there, and sometimes it's her, but somehow they always pull you back.

Doesn't destroy the cold.

There's work to be done. It's dangerous, and it's become mechanical, but it's there, and you're falling into the cold, into the black that circles you, but you have yourself convinced that, as long as it's evil, as long as you're _supposed_ to want it dead, it's okay. It's okay and you won't fall any deeper, but somehow you do, and with every passing moments that time throws at you, you get colder and more dangerous and more brutal, and you feel yourself _slipping_.

It's slow, and you're sure -- _sure_ -- that all you need is him… or maybe even her, but she's not _here_, and he's -- well, he's gone. Not coming back. Lost in the deepest recesses of hell, and you're sure he's struggling; sure he's holding on, and sure he wants to come home, but -- but you can't fix that.

You've tried. God, how you've tried. Tried _everything_, and then some, but nothing works and nothing helps, and you wake with images of your brother, screaming in pain and terror and darkness -- and you're not always sure they're just dreams and it makes you grateful that so much darkness shrouds him, because those screams… they're enough. Too much, and you couldn't possibly take the pleading look you know graces his soft features and the more you hear, the more you know you _have_ to save him, and the more it shatters that you _can't_. He's cold and alone and _hurting_, and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it. And you break a little more each day because you're _losing_ and you _know_ you are, but you want so badly to hold on. For him. Because all that suffering, all that _hurt_ -- it can't be for nothing, but if you _lose_ yourself, like you _know_ you are, that's exactly what it _will_ be. Because he gave up his life for you. Because he loved you, and you were his baby brother, but you were so much more than that, because you know damn well, he was the only thing that had kept you alive. _Know_ that he had _raised_ you.

When he had said those words -- _Remember what I taught you_ -- for the first time, it had been so clear. Because what dad had taught you…? It couldn't even compare to what Dean had taught you.

Dad had trained you as a soldier.

Dean had taught you to love. To question. To hope. To trust… And to fight. Not hand-to-hand combat. Not munitions training. No, _Dean_ had taught you to fight for what was right. For family. For love.

And he had taught you that some things…? Some things were more important that revenge. Something dad _never_ would have.

Dad had loved you. You knew it then, and you know it now.

But he had rarely shown it.

Dean -- even if he hadn't ever said it, his eyes would have betrayed it. You know, because you've always been able to read him, and wherever you were concerned, there was pride. There was pride and there was love, and there was -- _god, was there ever_ -- concern. Every moment.

Dean had been a big brother in reality, but a father in principle, and all you want to do -- all you have _ever wanted_ to do -- is prove yourself worthy of all his affections… Prove you can take care of _him_, every once in a while…

But you're failing. You _have_ failed.

And you think you need her. Because _he's_ not here, and it's left cold and empty, and you _can't_ fix it, but --

with her… with her you might -- _might_ -- be able to hold on.

* * *

_It's getting cold  
__Which means it's time to go  
__Marked by the evening coming on  
__Ending with the ending of a song_

* * *

But she hates you. Doesn't trust you. Can't.

And why should she? You haven't given her reason to…

And yet, she cares -- you know this, and it confuses you, because hatred and caring ought to be mutually exclusive, but they're _not_, and you know it, because you _know_ she cares. You can feel it, and you trust it, and so you think, maybe, somehow, you can bring her back --

But, well, you're not really stupid enough to call.

You remember, remember _everything_, and you're not sure they're just memories, because they feel _real_, but you pull them up sometimes, and you remember _her_ and you remember her touch, and you remember there was love…

But she doesn't believe in love, so you think maybe you're crazy, and, you know, that _crazy_ is becoming less and less a question every day, and you're breaking down and you're falling apart and you just want _something_ -- _someone_ -- and you spiral a little further and a little lower and a little darker and your heart is coating itself in black and there's a shocking hole burning its way through your soul and you're struggling, and clawing, and _trying_ --

It's never enough.

You slip deeper.

You're sure you're drowning, and tomorrow you think, when you wake up, maybe it won't even be _you_ anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if you let that happen…?

Maybe you can be there. With him.

Maybe you won't have to be so lost or broken or alone, because -- well, because he's _Dean_, and hell or no, he's your brother, and he's all you've got, and _anything_ has to be better than wandering, here, without him…

* * *

_I must have seen that house a hundred times  
__The road descends, it bends and then it climbs  
__If we record it maybe it will last  
__If we keep it still it won't go by so fast  
__So fast_

* * *

Those eyes are so bright. So blue.

You think you could drown in them.

"How?"

It's simple enough. You don't know, but you need to.

So you ask.

"I got a call."

You nod… not in affirmation, really. Because you don't understand.

"Someone named Dean."

* * *

_I dreamed we fell apart  
__It seems to end and then it seems to start  
__I dreamed, I dreamed we fell apart_

* * *


End file.
